There’s a kind of worship that doesn’t whisper. It doesn’t politely nod in agreement or sit silently in the pew. It doesn’t wait for the perfect conditions or for everything in life to make sense. This kind of worship rises from the depths of our soul and shouts. In Hebrew, the word Shabach means “to shout, to commend, to triumph in praise.” It’s loud. It’s bold. And it’s rooted in faith—especially the kind that declares God’s goodness before the breakthrough. When I first encountered this concept, I had to ask myself: When was the last time I shouted my worship—not from hype, but from holy hope? Shabach praise isn’t about volume for the sake of noise. It’s about proclaiming truth in defiance of despair. It’s the kind of praise that echoes from prison cells like Paul and Silas. It’s the voice that refuses to stay silent even when the night feels long. God doesn’t need our volume. But sometimes, we do. Sometimes our hearts need to hear the sound of our own voice declaring that He is faithful, He is near, and He is not done. And sometimes, the people around us need to hear it too—because our shout becomes